The Descent

January  fastened  upon  Ali's  image.  On  screen,  the  young  woman  knelt  by  her  pack and  unrolled  a  thin  sleeping  pad  on  the  stone  and  shared  a  candy  with  a  friend.  Her small communion with her neighbors was endearing.

Ali  finished  her  preparations,  then  sat  on  her  pad  and  opened  a  foil  packet  with  a folded  washcloth  and  cleaned  her  face  and  neck.  Finally  she  folded  her  hands  and exhaled.  You  could  not  mistake  her  contentment.  At  the  end  of  her  day,  she  was satisfied with her lot. She was happy.

Ali  glanced  up,  and  January  thought  she  was  praying.  But  Ali  was  looking  at  the lights in the tunnel ceiling. It  verged  on  worship.  January  felt  touched  and  appalled  at the same time. For Ali loved the light. It  was  that  simple.  She  loved  the  light.  And  yet she had given it up. All for what?  For me, thought January.

'I know that son of a bitch.' It  was one of the ClipGal commanders speaking.

At  center  screen,  a  lean  mercenary  was  issuing  orders  to  three  other  armed  men.

'His name's Walker,' the commander said. 'Ex-Air  Force.  Jockeyed  F-16s,  then  quit  to go  into  business  for  himself.  He  got  a  bunch  of  Baptists  killed  on  that  colony  venture south of  the  Baja  structure.  The  survivors  sued  him  for  breach  of  contract.  Somehow he  ended   up  in  my   neighborhood.  I   heard   Helios  was   hiring   muscle.   They   got themselves  a cluster-fuck.'

Sandwell  let  the  tape  run  another  minute  without  comment.  Then  he  said,  'It's  not

Walker who planted the prion capsules.' He froze the image. 'It's this man.'

Thomas  gave  a  start,  all  but  imperceptible.  January  felt  the  shock  of  recognition. She  looked  at  his  face  quizzically,  and  his  eyes  skipped  to  hers.  He  shook  his  head. Wrong  man.  She  returned   her   attention   to  the   image  on  screen,   searching   her memory. The  vandalized figure was no one she knew.

'You're  mistaken,'  a  soldier  stated  matter-of-factly   from  the   audience.  January knew that voice.

'Major Branch?' Sandwell said. 'Is that you, Elias?'

Branch  stood  up,  blocking  part  of  the  screen.  His  silhouette  was  thick  and  warped and primitive. 'Your information is incorrect. Sir.'

'You do recognize him then?'

The  image  frozen  on  screen  was  a  three-quarters  profile,  tattooed,  hair  trimmed with  a  knife.  Again  January   sensed   Thomas's   recoil.  A  click  of  teeth,   a  shift  in breathing.  He  was  staring  at  the  screen.  'Do  we  know  this  man?'  she  whispered. Thomas lifted his fingers: No.

'You've  made a mistake,' Branch repeated.

'I wish we had,' said Sandwell. 'He's gone rogue, Elias. That's  the fact.'

'No sir,' Branch declared.

'It's  our  own  fault,'  Sandwell  said.  'We  took  him  in.  The  Army  gave  him  sanctuary. We  presumed  he  had  returned  to  us.  But  it's  very  possible  he  never  quit  identifying with the hadals who had captured him. You've  all heard of the Stockholm syndrome.' Branch scoffed. At his superior officer. 'You're saying he's working for the devil?'

'I'm  saying  he  appears  to  be  a  psychological  refugee.  He's  trapped  between  two species, preying on  each.  The  way  I  look  at  it,  he's  killing  my  men.  And  taking  aim  at the whole subplanet.'

'Him,'  breathed  January.  Now  the  shock  was  hers.  'Thomas,  he's  the  one  Ali  wrote us about just before leaving Point Z-3.  The  Helios scout.'

'Who?' asked Thomas.

January  drew  the  name  from  her  mental  bank.  'Ike.  Crockett,'  she  whispered.  'A recapture.  He  escaped  from  the  hadals.  Ali  said  she  was  hoping  to  interview  him,  get his remembrances  of hadal life, enlist his knowledge.  What  have  I  gotten  her  involved with?'

'Judging by  his work so far,' Sandwell continued, 'Crockett is attempting to  lay  a  belt of  contagion  along  the  entire  sub-Pacific  equator.  With  one  signal  he  can  trigger  a chain  reaction  that  will  wipe  out  every  living  thing  in  the  interior,  human,  hadal,  and otherwise.'

'Give me your  proof,' Branch insisted stubbornly. 'Show me one clip or one picture  of Ike  planting  CBs.'  January  heard  heartbreak  mixed  in  with  his  defiance.  Branch  had some connection with this character  on screen.

'We have  no pictures,' Sandwell said. 'But  we've  retraced  the  original  batch  of  stolen Prion-9.  It  was  stolen  from  our  West  Virginia  chemical  weapons  depot.  The  theft occurred  the  same  week  that  Crockett  visited  Washington,  D.C.  The  same  week  he was  to  face  a  court-martial  and  a  dishonorable  discharge,  and  then  fled.  Now  four  of those cylinders have  been discovered in the very  same corridor he's guiding the Helios expedition through.'